Is Love in the Air?
by DoofusPrime
Summary: When Spike takes Fred out for Valentine's Day, a jealous Wesley decides to join Angel and Gunn as they drown their sorrows after work.  Before the night is through, our heroes may find themselves facing drama, embarrassment - or worse.
1. Going Out, Staying In

**Is Love in the Air? **by DoofusPrime

_Notes - This is a Valentine's Day Angel story, taking place shortly before the season 5 episode "Smile Time", which actually had a V-Day reference at the beginning. You don't really need to be familiar with the episode to read the story though. Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

**Going Out, Staying In**

XX

When Winifred Burkle thought of romance, sitting on a cold stool in the middle of Wolfram and Hart's Science Division laboratory and staring into a microscope was not the first thing that came to mind. Chocolates came to mind - or sitting on a couch in front of a crackling fire, wrapped in the arms of a lover. Not that Fred sat on a couch wrapped in the arms of a lover every Valentine's Day. As a matter of fact, she couldn't think of a single Valentine's Day she had spent in that situation.

It was a pretty lame holiday, really.

The microscope offered a glimpse of a chemical droplet placed on a slide, but as Fred peered at its hidden structure, the molecules began to blend together in a dull mass. She blinked, trying to make herself focus. The work was tiring her. It was a Saturday, and although working on Saturdays at Wolfram & Hart was a regular occurrence, she felt a little resentful that they would be expected to show up on Valentine's Day. But, she thought with a wry smile, their CEO could be a cruel taskmaster.

Fred looked up from the microscope to give her eyes a moment of rest and noticed Knox staring at her as he sat on his own stool, a hand cupped idly on his chin. She gave him a nervous smile; they were alone in the lab, as afternoon had given way to evening and their coworkers had already left. Now that her attention was away from her work for a moment, Fred noticed it was unusually hot in the room. The metal stool was no soft couch, but if Fred imagined hard enough, sitting in the muggy lab was _almost_ like being near a crackling fire.

_Okay_, she thought to herself. _Nice try, Fred, but not really._

Even if she had been sitting near a crackling fire and in the mood for romance, Fred had no interest in wrapping herself up in Knox's arms. She gave a sigh and slumped her shoulders a little as she began to wonder why she was letting herself get so morose.

"Something wrong, Fred?"

Knox leaned forward a little with a look of concern, but Fred shook her head.

"Nothing's wrong. Kinda hot in here though, don't you think?"

Knox shrugged.

"This Sloggoth Demon deterrent is going to take longer than I thought," said Fred. "I'm having trouble perfecting the formula. I guess we can put a test sample in a spray canister and try it out, but I'm pretty sure the only thing it would do is make them sneeze a few times."

"That's okay," said Knox. "I'm sure you'll get it. Besides, I don't think this is very high on the list of Wolfram & Hart priorities. Sometimes I get the feeling they just keep us busy down here when they don't need us to help deal with some crisis. Am I right or am I right?"

Fred smiled; she had gotten that impression before. But then, it was nice to be working on something that didn't need to be finished in a few hours so it could be used to prevent the world from ending, or some other catastrophe from occurring. Fred didn't regret choosing the life that she led now, but it was dangerous and demanding. She was happy to take a change of pace when she could get it. She just wished that Angel could let them get a day off once in a while when there wasn't anything too important going on.

"How's the dispersal grenade coming along?" she asked Knox. "Did you manage to get it to shoot out those little barbs like Angel wanted? Non-lethal barbs?" she added, emphasizing the 'non' part of the sentence.

Knox looked over at his work station as a sheepish frown stole across his features.

"Um, no. I guess I forgot to start on that."

"Maybe you should then."

Knox stammered for a moment before getting out of his stool with a clatter. "Definitely," he said. "I'll let you get back to working on that formula. I have to get some stuff from the supply room anyway. And maybe someone was messing with the air conditioning again - I'll crank it up a little while I'm gone."

"Thanks."

Fred watched Knox leave for a moment, trying to make sense of her feelings towards him. She couldn't deny that she had found him attractive when she first started working in the Science Division, and he did have a bit of a dorky charm going. But she also couldn't deny that those feelings were now missing. She had given him a chance, but there was no spark. Not to mention that there was just something about Knox. She couldn't put her finger on it – something _off_, was the best way she could put it. Maybe it was something about that last date...

A hand fell on Fred's shoulder, and she let out a squeak as she started with fright, knocking the microscope on its side with a clatter. "Knox," she said in irritation, "I thought you just-"

She looked up to see Spike standing beside her.

"Sorry about that, pet," said Spike as he glanced at the microscope, then down at her with a grin. "Expecting someone else, I take it?"

Fred righted the microscope again, putting the slide back into place. She didn't know why she was bothering, since the chemical droplet had fallen onto the table and been contaminated. "What's up Spike?" she asked she fumbled with the equipment and got ready to prepare a new sample.

"Well, seeing as it's Valentine's Day, and seeing as I just messed up your work there, I was wonderin' if you wanted to go out for a drink or two. Paint the town red and all. Um, not literally," added Spike as he realized some of the unfortunate associations Fred might make when a vampire like himself used a phrase like 'paint the town red.'

"What? Are you asking me out on a _date_?"

Spike coughed nervously and looked around to make sure they had no company.

"Maybe I am. What of it?"

Fred had not been expecting her work day to end with Spike asking her out on a date. As a matter of fact, she had spent the day waiting nervously for Knox to ask her out on another date, despite the fact that she had tried to suggest she wasn't interested in him after their last one. She got the impression Knox needed to be told more directly, which she hadn't gotten around to doing yet. Maybe Knox was waiting until they both got off work to ask. She looked over at the door where Knox had left to get some supplies; he wasn't back yet, but he would be returning at any moment.

"A date?" she asked Spike again.

The vampire looked down at her with crinkled eyebrows.

"Yes. A date, alright? I'm asking you out on a date."

Fred thought about the proposition. She and Spike had a certain connection after he had asked her for help with his little invisibility issue, and she did have a certain attraction to him on a physical level. The bleached blond hair and bad attitude were somehow corny and attractive at the same time. But she couldn't deny that she had been feeling a much more immediate attraction to someone else lately. Someone non-vampiric. Still, Fred found her thoughts being crowded out by the pressing knowledge that Knox would be coming back soon. And maybe forcing her into awkwardly rejecting him if he did end up asking her out. Maybe Spike interrupting her work was a blessing in disguise.

"Okay, sure," she said as she left her stool and grabbed her purse from a nearby table. "Let's go out!"

"Great! I was thinking maybe we could-"

"Come on, quick!" said Fred as she grabbed Spike by the arm and led him out of the lab. Spike stumbled a little before catching up to her unexpectedly brisk pace.

"Well, you're a bit more enthusiastic than I was expecting. Er, not that I'm complaining," added Spike as he found himself nearly dragged out the lab.

Fred looked both ways before entering the hallway; fortunately, Knox was nowhere in sight. As they walked hurriedly in the direction of the stairway, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. And maybe going out with Spike would be fun, too. It had to beat a night alone at the apartment, eating ice cream and sitting on her couch with potted ferns as her only company.

XX

Wesley nodded to several Wolfram & Hart employees as they passed him on their way out of the law firm. He was planning to leave himself after he touched base with Angel. Not that he had any interesting plans for the evening. As he turned a corner and entered the lobby on his way to Angel's office, he began to idly wonder whether Fred and Knox had any plans for the night. Wesley lost his train of thought when he ran smack into Fred.

"Hey Wesley!"

"Oh, hello there," said Wesley with a slight frown as he noticed that Spike was standing beside Fred, his arm grasped tightly in her hand. "I was just about to pay a visit to Angel before I-"

"That's great Wesley, but me and Spike gotta go!"

Fred spoke in a hurried voice, looking back over her shoulder.

"In a hurry, are we? Where are you two going?"

"Out!"

Fred jerked Spike's arm and pulled him into the elevator after pressing the button. Wesley stared at the two of them for a moment with a rising sense of confusion as Spike gave Fred a pat on the back and winked in his direction just before the elevator doors closed.

Were they going out for Valentine's Day? Wesley felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought, although they had left in too much of a hurry to let him know what was going on. And, despite the way Angel disliked Spike so intensely, for some reason the bleached-blond vampire did not bother Wesley the way Knox did. Spike was less slimy, somehow. He wore his obnoxiousness on his sleeve. Although he had to admit that maybe he only found Knox obnoxious because of the attention he slathered on Fred.

"Something wrong, Wesley?"

Wesley noticed Harmony for the first time as she left the receptionist's desk, handbag tucked into the crook of her arm. She seemed even more overdressed than usual, wearing enough pink to decorate a baby girl's room. She was probably going out for the evening, which was not surprising. Even as a member of the undead, Wesley imagined that Harmony would not be stuck alone on Valentine's Day.

"No, nothing is wrong. Did you hear anything about Spike and Fred going out tonight?"

Harmony's normally cheery expression disappeared briefly as a flash of irritation stamped itself across her features. "No, I definitely did _not_," she said. "Blondie bear likes his women with more curves, Wesley."

"I see. So where are you going tonight, Harmony?"

"With them!"

Wesley turned in the direction of Harmony's pointed finger to see Lorne coming down the stairway into the lobby with two female companions in tow. One of them, an older woman, had a portly figure and chubby, rosy cheeks fringed with brown hair, which cascaded down in shining curled locks. She wore a large white coat with thick fur trimmings which extended almost to her feet. As he took in her flamboyant look, Wesley was surprised to find the image of an overweight human poodle spring to mind. Beside her stood the other woman, a slim girl in glasses and a gray business suit holding a clipboard.

"Wesley!" exclaimed Lorne as he pulled Wesley into a bear hug. "Leaving already?"

"It is getting fairly late, Lorne," said Wesley as he glanced at his watch.

"Oh, I know, I'm just surprised. Normally you're such a workaholic – got any hot V-day plans tonight, you charmer?"

"I'm afraid I don't."

"That's too bad," said Lorne. Harmony joined the group, and he gave her a smile and a pinch on the chin before motioning to the two women accompanying him. "Wes," he said, "This is Madame Bouffant and her assistant. Miss Bouffant is an up-and-comer in the opera scene, and a valued client of Wolfram & Hart. Ladies, this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He works in the Research and Development Division. He's good with the magical stuff, too – now don't get bashful, Wes, you know you are!"

Madame Bouffant extended a hand, palm downwards, at which Wesley stared blankly for a moment before realizing she was expecting a kiss. He took her hand and gave it a peck.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ah'm sure," spoke Madame Bouffant in a cultured southern accent.

"Hello," spoke her slim assistant in a monotone voice. Madame Bouffant gave her assistant a sharp look, as if she had interrupted, before returning her attention to Wesley.

"My green friend here shall be accompanying me an' my assistant to a few little soirées around town tonight. I don't suppose you'd like to tag along with us?"

Judging by the woman's appearance and Lorne's general sociability, Wesley felt confident in guessing that 'little' was not the best word to describe any parties they would be attending. Lorne's social scene was a little too loud and vibrant for his tastes. "Thank you for the offer," he said, "but I have to decline. By the way, if you don't mind me asking, are you from France?"

"Certainly not," laughed Madame Bouffant. "On account on the name? It's jus' for the sake of the opera. Appearances mean everything in the entertainment business, as ah'm sure your dear friend Lorne here can agree."

Wesley smiled politely as he caught a brief glimpse of what looked like a scaly tail swishing back and forth behind Madame Bouffant, just barely protruding from the long white dress coat she was wearing. Apparently, Madame Bouffant had to worry about her appearance more than most entertainers. Perhaps that was one reason Wolfram & Hart enjoyed her as a client. Lorne noticed Wesley staring at the flicking tail and gave him a wink.

"Well," he said, "We're off for a little partying. Oh, I'm so excited!"

Madame Bouffant gave him a gleeful titter before the group moved on. The assistant nodded curtly at Wesley, and Harmony blew him a kiss as they left, chattering and laughing amongst themselves. After they disappeared, the lobby was plunged into silence; most everyone else in the law firm seemed to have left already. Wesley finally finished his walk to Angel's office and gave the door a knock.

"Come in."

Upon entering, Wesley nodded to both Angel and Gunn, who were sitting at opposite sides of Angel's desk. Wesley took another seat beside Gunn.

"How's the M'vol'nick case going?" asked Gunn.

"Quite well. Finished, in fact. I wrapped it up about half an hour ago."

"Great."

"Well, Gunn and I have everything wrapped up already," said Angel. "Nothing new on the horizon for now. Still nothing new on Eve or Lindsey. I guess seeing as it's Valentine's Day you guys can both get out of here."

Wesley and Gunn both nodded, but as Angel sat back in his chair, neither one of them moved. Wesley found himself counting seconds as the three of them sat around the desk in silence. Angel raised an eyebrow at the two of them after a moment.

"What's up?"

Wesley coughed. He was not actually sure what was up, really – just that he didn't feel like going anywhere. The thought of sitting alone in his apartment with a bucket of ice cream came to mind, and somehow it made staying at work seem almost exciting in comparison. Not only that, but seeing Spike and Fred together had been strange enough to stick in his mind, and the image refused to go away.

"I gotta admit I don't really feel like goin' home," said Gunn. "I've been in a bad mood all day, what with it bein' Valentine's Day and all. I had a good Valentine's Day once when I was first going out with Fred, but usually it just gets me down. I've been distracted all day, actually – it's like I kept forgetting things. I couldn't focus on my lawyer stuff."

"Lawyer stuff?" asked Angel, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right, lawyer stuff. What's with the look?"

Wesley exchanged a smile with Angel as he thought about Gunn's complaint. He didn't know about the lawyer stuff, but he couldn't help but share Gunn's feelings about the holiday. Normally he just ignored it, as Wesley was the kind of person to be more absorbed in his studies than in romance, but today had definitely been weighing on his mind. Probably, he reasoned, because of Fred.

"What about you?" asked Angel. "You look bummed out too. Same reason as Gunn?"

Wesley nodded sheepishly.

"Well jeez guys – it's just a stupid excuse for corporations to sell you cards and candy. What, are you guys in high school or something?"

"That ain't fair," said Gunn. "How do you even know they're preoccupied with Valentine's Day in high school, anyway? They didn't have high school in England in the 16th century, did they?"

"Ireland, Gunn. 18th century. I'm not _that_ old. And I know all about the kind of stuff they obsess about in high school from talking to Buffy. Not to mention that teenagers are pretty much the same no matter what time period you're talking about."

Gunn shrugged noncommittally. "Can't argue with you there, I guess."

The trio fell into an awkward silence again, until Wesley remembered that they were done working and could go home. He noticed a change in Angel's expression as he got up from his seat, Gunn following his example. As Angel frowned and stared vacantly at nothing in particular, Wesley got the feeling that bringing up Buffy had brought some memories back. He was about to excuse himself when Angel held up a hand.

"Hey guys," he said.

Wesley and Gunn stood still, waiting for him to keep going with his thought.

"You know, Valentine's Day does suck, doesn't it. Do you two want to hang out here a while?"

Wesley stared at Angel as if he was asking a trick question.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not? I figure I'll just be brooding over things all night otherwise. Might as well have some fun, right?"

Gunn looked at Wesley, as if confirming that he was not imagining things, and Wesley shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Never thought I'd hear that comin' from you," Gunn finally said.

"I can have fun sometimes."

"If you say so."

"Whatever. We can go up to my room – I have drinks up there."

"You do?" asked Wesley.

"Yeah, a whole liquor cabinet. Eve showed it to me when she was giving me a tour of the place for the first time, but I keep forgetting about it. Might as well use it tonight."

Angel got up from his desk and approached the elevator leading up to his room. Gunn, who seemed to have momentarily perked up at the prospect of alcohol, joined him. Wesley followed behind them. Having a few drinks sounded like a good idea. He would have preferred to be out with Fred, but since a certain platinum-topped creature of the night was out with her for some bizarre reason, he was happy to spend some time enjoying a little well-deserved relaxation with his friends instead.

XX

* * *

_Notes - There will be a few more chapters to go, so I guess even though the story is set during Valentine's Day, it will last a bit longer than that. Ah well! Let me know how you like it so far._


	2. Dinner and Drinks

**Dinner and Drinks**

XX

"Here is the dessert menu, sir."

The waiter stood stiffly at attention, holding out the menu as Spike finished picking at a chicken bone. He looked across the table at Fred, who had long since finished her meal, but she shrugged indifferently at the prospect of dessert. The restaurant was her choice, as Spike had forgotten to actually plan where they would go if Fred agreed to spending Valentine's Day evening with him, but Spike had to admit the food was better than he expected. For such a snooty place, anyway.

"Hold on a minute," he told the waiter as he opened the menu. "Don't leave yet, this'll just be a minute. Let's see here." He perused the menu, but none of the options looked interesting to him. Instead, he found himself thinking about a certain item he had see on the dinner menu earlier. "Let me ask you – I saw some kind of onion dealy on the dinner menu. You know what I'm talkin' about?"

The waiter stared in exasperation.

"The Onion Swirl Appetizer, sir?"

"Yeah, that's the ticket. Is that like the onion blossom they've got over at The Bronze in Sunnydale?"

"I've never been to Sunnydale, sir."

"Lucky bloke," mused Spike, speaking half to the waiter and half to himself.

"I'd have to take your word for it, sir."

"Well, some help you are," concluded Spike as he closed the menu and flung it back to the waiter. "Just get me that onion thing, alright?"

"Very well."

Spike sighed and sat back in his chair as Fred gave him a perfunctory smile. He noticed her attitude was a little unusual. Forced, maybe. Spike wondered if he had been too focused on stuffing himself during the date. He enjoyed real food more than most vampires, and although the restaurant had no blood on the drink menu, their Bloody Mary had been one of the best he'd tasted. Fred had an amazing appetite as well, and she ate more quickly than he did.

"So why did you invite me out tonight?" asked Fred. "Do you – are you interested in me?"

Spike couldn't help but let out a short laugh at Fred's hesitant question. It was somehow hesitant and blunt at the same time. Actually, he had asked Fred out on a sort of impulse – not wanting to spend Valentine's Day thinking about certain blondes in his recent past, for one thing – but he definitely thought Fred had a certain charming, innocent air. And he had been around long enough to know that the innocent types were often not very innocent at all, once you dug beneath their shiny surface.

"Well sure, why not?" he said. "You're a cute one, you know. And I suppose I never really thanked you properly for savin' my life when I was caught up in that disappearin' act. Not every day a beautiful girl saves me, right? Not since Buffy anyway." Spike peered more closely at Fred as he talked. "You're havin' fun right? I mean you're the one who picked this restaurant, love."

"Sure," said Fred. "I'm a regular here – they serve a lot of Wolfram & Hart clients, actually. That's why the maitre d' recognized me when I came in and gave us a table without a reservation. And I mentioned you were a vampire to our waiter so he'd give you a blood-infused Bloody Mary. They have those here."

"No kidding!" exclaimed Spike. "I was wondering why you told him that. I thought he was just givin' you lip, or you wanted to make sure we got a cheap bill or something. Mighty nice of you, Fred!"

"It's my pleasure."

"It's not human blood, is it? I think I'd recognize human blood if _that_ was in there."

"No. Vole blood I think."

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Good. Don't want to break Angel's silly lawyer rules even if I'm really working for him."

He hadn't tasted vole blood before, but he'd have to make sure he tried it again sometime. Maybe with a little burba weed mixed into the drink to spice it up a bit. "So," he said as he waited for the waiter to return with his onion appetizer, "we're eating at an evil lawyer establishment, is basically what you're saying?"

Fred frowned. It wasn't quite what she meant, but she supposed Spike had a point.

"Sort of," she finally admitted.

"I'll tell you what, you guys and Angel – you're all really turnin' over to the dark side. I told Angel that place would get to him, but I'm surprised you've given in too. You seemed like a nice one to me."

"What? I don't appreciate that!"

"Hey, just kidding around a bit."

Fred's brow creased with worry as she pondered Spike's joke. She couldn't deny that it had stung her, digging at certain insecurities she had been holding ever since they started working at Wolfram & Hart. She had tried to justify it in different ways – tried to tell herself that they were working for a higher good, that ultimately they could best defeat their enemies by making them believe they were switching sides – but some of the things they did at the law firm made her uncomfortable. There were some days, days when she worked on some questionable new project in the laboratory, that made her wonder if she was losing sight of whose side she was really on.

"You seemed like you were in a hurry when we left," said Spike. "Runnin' away from that Knox fellow, were you?"

Spike had interrupted her thoughts, but Fred felt his question play into her insecurities even more.

"Yes," she said. "I figured he'd be asking me out tonight too."

"I sort of thought you two were going out already."

"We've been on a couple of dates, but I don't think there was anything there. Something about him kind of rubs me the wrong way. He's a nice guy, but there's just something about him, I don't know. You know he talked about the strangest things on our last date? Old Gods or some random thing he's all interested in. It was a little creepy, actually. I ended up zoning him out halfway through the date."

"Sounds like a real tosser," laughed Spike.

Fred raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused smile. The two of them sat in silence for a little while before the waiter returned with the onion appetizer that Spike had ordered. Spike dug in. Judging by the crestfallen expression that soon took over his features, Fred could tell that it was not the same onion treat as the one he enjoyed from that place in Sunnydale he mentioned earlier.

"Here's a question for you," said Fred as she watched Spike poke halfheartedly at his food. "Do vampires celebrate Valentine's Day? It doesn't really seem like a bloodsucking fiend kind of holiday, not like Halloween."

"You'd be surprised," said Spike. "What about the hearts? All the red colors? Vampire-themed, I figure."

Fred had to admit he had a point.

"Besides, most creatures of the night don't actually celebrate Halloween. It's tacky."

"Like Valentine's Day isn't."

"Fair enough," said Spike. "It really depends on the vampire you're talkin' about. Drusilla happened to like Valentine's Day, as a matter of fact. I still remember the look on her face when I pulled a still-beating heart out of the chest of some sodding fool we ran down in some alley. Now let's see, where was that again..."

Spike noticed a disgusted look on Fred's face and cut off his reminiscing.

"Oh, sorry about that," he said. "Forget I said that! But anyway, now, you take Angel and Darla – they were never the types for Valentine's Day."

"Why not?"

Spike shrugged. "I s'pose Angel's not one to go for all that sentimentality. I mean, unless he was trying to show me up with Drusilla. I got Dru a nice necklace a few years ago once, and then Angelus comes in lookin' all pleased as punch with some bleedin' heart in his hand and plops it down right in front of her, when he knew Dru and I were an item!"

"I'm sensing a human heart theme here," said Fred with a sigh.

"Oh right, grossing you out. Sorry. That's what happens when you're evil on Valentine's Day."

"You know, Angel could be sentimental and just doesn't show it," suggested Fred.

Spike let out a derisive scoff as he picked at the remains of his onion appetizer. Fred wondered if he was really in a position to have an objective opinion on Angel's personality. She always got the impression that Angel was quite a softy beneath that harsh exterior, anyway.

"Your bill, sir."

Spike looked up at the waiter, a piece of onion still hanging from his mouth. The onion fell onto the spotless white tablecloth as Spike picked up the bill and stared, his eyes widening. Fred frowned as she watched his expression change.

"Something wrong?"

"Um, nothing," said Spike with a nervous laugh. "This place is a little pricey, don't you think?"

"That's why there's no prices on the menu. That's how you know a place is expensive."

"Well how the hell do you afford eating here, pet?"

"I _do_ make a salary at Wolfram & Hart," said Fred indignantly. "And it's not like I eat here every day." She narrowed her eyes at Spike's incredulous expression. "You didn't ask me out without any money to pay for our meal, did you?"

"What? No, don't be – okay, yes. I got nothing."

"Doesn't Angel give you anything for working with us?"

"Excuse me, but like I said earlier, it's not like I work with you people in an official capacity," said Spike. "Don't insult me. I realize you didn't know the old Spike, but let me tell you sweetie, I've reformed! I'm no evil law firm lackey, thank you very much. Now get up."

"What?"

Fred looked around the restaurant in alarm as Spike abruptly shoved his chair aside. Several patrons looked over at their table. Fred was not surprised by the sudden attention; Spike already had to look like a strange person to be eating in such an upscale dining establishment.

"We have to make a run for it," he said. "I know a place where we could have more fun anyway."

"Make a run for it? Are you serious?"

Fred felt her alarm rising as Spike grabbed her by the arm.

"No money, honey. Waiter's gone anyway. On three, ready?"

"No!"

"One, two..."

Just as she had dragged Spike along in her hurry to leave Wolfram & Hart, Fred found herself being dragged as the two of them made a dash for the door. This was not quite what she had been expecting when Spike asked her out for Valentine's Day.

Then again, it _was_ Spike.

XX

Wesley took another drink of his piña colada as he sat in a rough circle with Gunn and Angel in the middle of the room. He wouldn't normally have chosen a piña colada, but when he saw Gunn's surprisingly feminine choice of mixed drink he felt more comfortable in his own choice of beverage. The three of them had been sitting in chairs, but after Angel had a few drinks he seemed to have loosened up, as he was now laying in his bed beside the two chairs occupied by Wesley and Gunn. The overall effect was a little strange. Adding to the strangeness was the silence pervading the room. Maybe they weren't drunk enough yet, but hanging out in Angel's Wolfram & Hart apartment on Valentine's Day was turning out to be somewhat awkward. Not surprising, really.

"To be honest, I guess I didn't really want to spend all night up here alone, thinking about Cordelia."

Wesley and Gunn both looked at Angel as he sat back against his bedpost. The statement had come after an extended period of silence, and Wesley wasn't sure how to respond. It was not often that Angel opened up about anything, but even more importantly, Wesley knew how Angel was feeling. Cordelia's loss was still fresh on his mind as well. And he was sure Gunn felt the same way.

"You wanna talk about it?" asked Gunn.

"No, not really. I'm not a big talker."

Wesley smiled wryly. "I've noticed," he said.

"It's just hard to move on," said Angel, apparently ignoring his own statement as he sat up straighter. The room was dim; a small bedside lamp provided the only illumination beyond moonlight coming through the window blinds, but Wesley could see that Angel was staring off vaguely into the distance as he spoke. "Today it was harder than usual to get her out of my mind, that's all."

"I believe it's hard for everyone," said Wesley, "even though I know your case is not the same. But in a way, it's not such a bad thing that you're hung up on her today. We certainly don't want to forget about her. Hopefully she'll always be around thanks to our memories. And with the powers that be, you never really know in what other ways she could still be around."

Wesley wasn't sure if mentioning that had been a good idea; maybe he was getting Angel's hopes up. But on the other hand, he knew there was some truth in what he said, and he had to admit that he wanted to reassure himself that it could be true. Maybe there was always a chance that Cordelia wasn't gone for good. Even if he was lying to himself, it was a lie he was willing to believe.

"That's true," said Angel. "I'd just rather not be thinking about her today."

"Understandable."

Angel thought about Wesley's comment as he took another drink of liquor, and the idea that Cordelia was watching over them, in one way or another, brought a smile to his lips. They had certainly seen enough to know that death did not have to be the end, and Cordelia herself _had_ come back to him for a day, if only to say goodbye. There was some comfort in that. And a little more comfort in his bottle of scotch.

"So, you ever been a fan of Valentine's Day?" asked Gunn. "What's the deal with vampires and valentines?"

Wesley got the feeling that his friend was trying to change the subject since Angel did not seem to inclined to brood over Cordelia. He had to admit it was hard to picture Angel as the romantic type.

"I'm usually not the romantic type," said Angel.

Wesley gave himself a little mental pat on the back for being so astute.

"No, that's a lie," exclaimed Angel. "I would have liked to have a nice Valentine's Day with Cordy. And with Buffy too, for that matter, when I was with her in Sunnydale - but Angelus was out at the time. I know Spike and Drusilla had a nice Valentine's Day that year."

Referencing his former partners in evil made Angel pause for a moment as distant memories sprang forth from the depths of his mind. "And heck," he said, voicing his thoughts aloud, "I had more than a few good ones with Darla back in the day. You know, I can still remember some of the screams..."

Angel's voice trailed off. Lost in thought for a moment, he snapped out of it when he noticed the nervous looks his two friends were giving him in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I wasn't enjoying the memory or anything. I was just thinking about how horrible I was back then!"

"If you say so," said Gunn.

Wesley took another drink, noticing that he was beginning to feel a little light-headed. Apparently his alcohol tolerance was even more pathetic than he had remembered. "You know," he said, already feeling his inhibitions begin to loosen a little, "you know who would be a nice addition to our little get-together here? Lorne. He's the life of the party, after all."

"True," said Gunn. "Where'd he go tonight, anyway?"

"Went out with some opera singer. She might have been a demon, I'm not sure."

"What? Is he gonna be okay?"

"Oh yes, she was a regular client of his."

"What about Fred? I guess I forgot to say goodbye to her too – maybe she's still down there in the lab!"

Wesley shook his head emphatically.

"She would be a great addition to our little group. But I'm afraid she left with Spike already."

This time, it was Angel and Gunn's turn to stare incredulously at Wesley.

"Spike?" they asked in unison.

"Yes, they were in quite a hurry. Perhaps they're out on a date," said Wesley. Hearing the thought aloud gave him a sour grimace, but Angel's reaction seemed even more severe – he leaped out of the bed as if something had just bitten him.

"Spike, with Fred? What's he planning, huh?"

"Whoa, whoa! I don't think anything was wrong, she looked fine."

"But it's Spike! They're going out on a date?"

"Well, I don't know that for sure."

Gunn got up and began to calm Angel down, who relented after a few moments and sat back down on his bed in a huff. Wesley had to admit that the more he thought about Fred at some romantic restaurant with that Billy Idol lookalike, the more his mood began to mirror Angel's reaction. Wesley didn't share the same antipathy towards Spike that Angel did, since he lacked their shared history, but still – what _did_ Fred see in that bleached bimbo of a man?

"Valentine's Day," said Angel, his voice dripping with disgust.

"Absolutely," agreed Wesley.

Gunn nodded in agreement and took a heavy drink of his cocktail before getting up to mix himself another one. "Do you still think about Lilah?" he asked Wesley. "Sorry if I'm pryin', I was just wondering since we work at Wolfram & Hart now. It's almost like we're on the same team as she was."

Angel frowned at the suggestion, although he declined to say anything about it for fear of offending Wesley.

"Sometimes," said Wesley. "But I suppose I've moved on."

A certain someone's name was on the tip of Wesley's tongue as he thought about exactly where he had moved. Someone who gave him those few moments of happiness he could find lately. Unfortunately, he knew that Fred did not share his feelings. She had no idea what kind of effect she had on him.

"What about you?" he asked Angel, wanting to shift the focus to someone else. "Do you still think about Buffy?"

"Sure I do, sometimes. I think I'll always love Buffy in some way. But after Cordelia, it was different."

Angel thought about it, a little unsure of himself. It was true that Buffy often came to mind, especially after Spike had dropped in like a tornado at Wolfram & Hart thanks to that stupid talisman, babbling on and on about how Buffy chose him to be a hero. It was hard not to think about Buffy when Spike was bringing her up all the time. And yet, Angel couldn't imagine himself pining over her indefinitely, or crossing continents to chase after her. He definitely wouldn't stoop to anything that overly dramatic. That was for sure.

"No," he finally said, not really speaking to Wesley and Gunn anymore so much as talking aloud to himself, "I think I've moved on from Buffy."

XX

"I _totally_ haven't moved on from Buffy!" said Spike as he took another swig of his beer mug at the bar table. "That bitch got me all worked up – she even said she loved me right before that whole bloody town collapsed on top of me, did you know that?"

Fred shook her head as she listened to Spike's rambling. Several other bar-goers gathered around her and Spike as he went on about his last love. And a lost love, if he wanted Fred's opinion, but Spike hadn't asked for Fred's opinion. Which was why Fred was smiling and nodding, wondering why Spike had thought it was a good idea to take her to a seedy-looking bar that seemed to have more demonic customers than human ones. It did explain his increasing audience at the bar; apparently, demonic bar patrons had a lot of interest in a vampire talking about his slayer ex girlfriend of sorts.

"Every woman I get involved with, I tell you what – all of 'em, all end up tearin' my heart out! I mean, it's a withered husk, but the joke's on them! I give them everything I got and sooner or later, they cheat on me with some moose demon or leave me to die in some cave surrounded by a bunch of vampire cavemen. It's bloody wrong I tell ya!"

"Spike, you're not making much sense."

"You're not making much sense," exclaimed Spike. Fred gave him an angry look, at which he balked for a moment. "No, sorry love, I forgot I'm taking you out tonight. You make perfect sense. You're not like the others, nope."

Several of the other patrons gathered around the bar, including the bartender, rolled their eyes. One of them finished his glass of beer and slammed it emphatically on the counter as he swiveled his stool to look at Spike. "I still can't believe you dated the Slayer," he said. "A vampire, dating the slayer? That's a tall tale, my friend."

"You'd better believe it," said Spike. "The Slayers have the hots for us vamps, friend. Make no mistake. She even went out with this bloody fool of a vampire before me, name of Angel. Heard of him?"

Several other demons who were gathered around Spike murmured, recognizing the name, although one scratched his head in confusion. "You mean Angelus?" he asked.

"Angel," said the demon who was questioning Spike's story. "Head of Wolfram & Hart. Claims he's got a soul now, even though I've been having a hard time figuring out how a vampire with a soul decides to become CEO of Los Angeles' evil epicenter."

"You got me mate," laughed Spike. "I've been tryin' to figure that one out myself."

Fred shook her head. "It's not like that – Wolfram & Hart isn't run the way it used to be. Angel's doing a lot of good now, using their resources to fight the forces of darkness!"

Several of the demons whispered angrily among themselves. Clearly they were not happy with Fred's sudden outburst against the forces of darkness. A couple of them took a few steps towards Fred until Spike lurched out of his bar stool and glared menacingly. Fred gulped nervously.

"I mean, we're trying evil out for a test drive? Yay evil?"

The demons calmed down and gave her a few nods of approval.

"And Spike was totally dating Buffy. Angel complains about it all the time!"

"You know what?" said Spike as he took another step from his bar stool, looking a little peeved at dual thoughts of Buffy and Angel running through his increasingly intoxicated mind. "Enough of all this doom and gloom. Fred, love, I took you here to have a little fun and get a change from that hoighty-toighty restaurant you picked out. Honestly, paying for food," he laughed, "what kind of a racket is that?"

Fred stared at Spike, who seemed to be expecting an answer, but she couldn't think of one.

"Anyway, come with me!" he said as he took her by the hand and led her further into the bar. "We're gonna have a good time tonight or my name isn't Willia – Spike!"

The two of them reached a table near the back of the bar. A group of intimidating demonic types took up most of the room at the table as they played cards together, although there was one skinny man in a business suit contrasting with the rest of the players. Spike elbowed one of the demons aside as he pulled in a chair and looked over the game.

"What are we playing? Never mind that, I don't care - pass me some cards!"

Fred watched as Spike began playing, a drink in one hand which he had grabbed from the bar counter before leaving, cards held in the other. Her surroundings were so off-putting that it took her a few moments to notice what was unusual about the card table. Or, maybe not the table itself so much as the basket of kittens sitting at its center.

"What are those?" she asked as she pointed to the mewling kittens.

"Kittens," said a demon. "Duh."

The other demons, as well as the man in the business suit, snickered at Fred's question.

"Well I know they're kittens, thank you very much, I was just wonderin' what they're doing in that basket in the middle of the table for?"

Spike coughed as the other players began to look askance at his date.

"Look, this is how demons gamble, okay? The kittens are the betting pool."

Fred frowned. "I don't like that," she said.

"Well, if I win, I can save some of them. Now, give me some tips on my hand, will you? I'm feelin' a little knackered here," he said as he took another swig.

"Hey, you can't get help!" complained one of the demons.

"Sod off, mate."

Fred peered over Spike's shoulder nervously as he held his cards up. Several grumbles at the table seemed to indicate a rising discontent with Spike's behavior, but from the way everyone had been acting as soon as he came into the bar, Fred got the feeling that he was a bit of a regular there. Or at least his reputation preceded him. Still, she was beginning to count the minutes until they could leave. Maybe with an armful of rescued kittens.

XX

Wesley felt his bad mood beginning to dissipate, clearing itself from his mind like an unwanted raincloud as the alcohol began to take its effect. He wasn't exactly in a _good_ mood, to be quite clear, but he was definitely starting to loosen up a little. All this time, Angel had a private liquor cabinet in his sleeping quarters that had never been touched. It was a travesty! Then again, Wesley was glad that Angel had chosen to share it with his friends instead of drinking it all himself.

"Oh boy," said Gunn. "She's gonna smack him for that one!"

Gunn and Angel laughed uproariously as they watched the television. Earlier they had been flipping channels before settling on some kind of wartime drama, but when Gunn had complained about the movie being too depressing, Angel had continued flipping until landing on a soap opera. Something called _Passions_ – Wesley had never heard of it. Gunn had been skeptical as well, but Angel kept insisting it was a good show. As Wesley watched the two of them enjoying themselves, it was clear that Gunn seemed to agree with Angel's assessment of the show. Wesley didn't see what was so appealing about it. Maybe Gunn had been hitting the bottle a little harder than Wesley.

"Hey Gunn," said Wesley teasingly, "the night is young. You'd better lay off th' spirits."

Gunn gave his friend an open-mouthed stare.

"Spirits?"

"He means 'alcohol'," said Angel.

"Oh I know. I just thought it was funny how he said that. It sounded so English!"

Angel laughed and punched Wesley on the arm before returning his attention to the television, where one character on _Passions_ had just insulted another character. Sure enough, the insult was returned by a dramatic slap and a swell of string music. Wesley watched the television vacantly, frowning and rubbed his arm where Angel had playfully punched it. He didn't think 'spirits' was a particularly English word – it was just the first one that came to mind. _But tell that to the drunkards_, he thought irritatedly.

"I never would have thought you'd be interested in this kind of show,"he told Angel. "It's almost as surprising as hearing you sing Mandy."

"Hey, that's a good song! Anyway, this show's not so bad when you get into it. I mean, I'm a secure guy."

"He's secure in his guyness," said Gunn.

"Yeah, that's right! Exactly! I mean, this is definitely not the kind of show you'd ever catch Spike watching, with all his macho posturing. Spike's very insecure, you know. You wouldn't believe some of the things Drusilla told me about him when I was Angelus."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, finding himself intrigued. He wanted to know more about Spike.

"Such as?"

Angel hiccuped. "Can't remember," he said with a shrug. "Hey, you have to watch this, you won't believe what happens to Sheridan!"

"What kind of women did Spike have an interest in?" asked Wesley, his interest in Spike outweighing his interest in the show. Which was not much of a feat, as his interest in the show was close to nil.

Angel shrugged. "I know he had a thing for some woman named Cecile before he was turned, but I don't know too much about her. After that he was pretty much devoted to Drusilla. Based on her, I guess he likes skinny pale girls?"

"I was wondering about personality, not looks."

"Oh, right. Um, based on Drusilla, he liked the crazy types, at least when he was evil."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, surprised that Angel would indirectly admit that Spike was good now, and Angel seemed to catch the suggestion behind his friend's look. "_More_ evil than he is now," he emphatically corrected himself. "Anyway, other than that, I guess he always seemed like he had a preference for the mousy cute and innocent types. But that was in terms of victims, not love interests." Angel trailed off with a frown. "Why are we talking about this anyway, Wesley? I don't want to talk about Spike's taste in ladies when I'm trying to watch my soap."

"My apologies."

The room quited down again save for the soft dialogue of soap opera actors as Angel returned to his program. Wesley tried to pay attention to the show, but found himself sinking deep into thought within moments. He got up and made his way a little shakily towards the liquor cabinet with his empty glass for a refill as he thought about Angel had said.

_Mousy, cute, innocent_, he thought. _Can't be trusted ever._

Technically, that last part was something Angel had said in an apoplectic mood soon after Spike first appeared at Wolfram & Hart. But it was popping into Wesley's mind now. He did not normally share Angel's hatred for Spike. But he understand where it was coming from in terms of their long past together, their tangled history with Buffy, and their shared interest in the Shanshu Prophecy. As Wesley took another drink, however, he began to wonder if Angel was on to something. Why would Spike be so interested in Fred? Why would Fred be so willing to leave with him on Valentine's Day?

The only possible explanation was that Spike had whispered sweet nothings into her ear, promises of romance and sweaty fun times together. Luring her into his vampire trap with that platinum blond hair and lean yet sculpted physique. Leading her by the neck, straight into his glistening fangs!

_Slow down a little_, Wesley told himself. _ That's utterly ridiculous._

Or was it?

Although he was getting increasingly drunk, Wesley was aware that he was not exactly the most unbiased person to judge the situation. And Spike _did_ have a soul. Even if he still seemed like a bit of a twit. Yet Wesley couldn't shake the feeling that it would be a good idea to check on Fred, at the least. Maybe he could even crash their little date and woo her with his exotic British charm. He smiled and nodded to himself as he thought about the fresh scene that was whirling giddily in his brain. Yes, he knew how well his accent went down with the American ladies.

Wesley put down his drink and began to walk to the elevator.

"Where're you going?" asked Angel, his voice wavering a little, empty glass in hand.

"Out to see Fred."

"Tell her we said hi!" said Gunn, who made a motion as if to emphasize his request but almost fell off Angel's bed in the process. Angel laughed and grabbed onto him just before he fell.

"I'll be sure to do exactly that!"

Wesley called up the elevator, imagining how the next couple of hours might turn out. He had given up on Fred long ago, but the more he thought about it, the more Wesley decided he just needed to assert himself. Spike be damned!


	3. The Dangers of Dating

**The Dangers of Dating**

XX

A rush of guttural shouts and roars came from the card table; added to the noise level already coursing through the bar, Fred could barely hear the voice on the other end of the line.

"What was that?" she asked, moving away from the table into a corner of the bar and clutching her cell phone close to her ear. "That's right, The Heaving Horn," she said as she watched Spike lose another round and slam his fists angrily against the table "There's a little sign near the corner of Williams Avenue and Huntington, you need to go back into the alley."

Fred twitched in fright as a passing demon gave her a leer, which – as he was a demon – was much more creepy and suggestive than any human leer. There were a number of humans in the bar, although Fred assumed at least some of them were vampires like Spike, but enough of the patrons were grotesque in appearance to make Fred feel decidedly uneasy. A guilty feeling tugged insistently at her insides as Fred began to wonder if she was exhibiting some kind of deep-seated anti-demon bigotry. It had to be the bar's atmosphere, she thought. Not just their appearances – some of her best friends were demons, after all!

"Alright already!" she said, growing impatient with the drunk voice on the other end of the phone. "I'll see you in a little while. Bye Wesley!"

Fred closed the cellphone. A sigh of exasperation escaped her lips, but she couldn't help feeling a sense of nervous excitement as well. Wesley was clearly drunk, and that could have been the only reason for his calling her – but was it? It _was_ Valentine's Day, after all. Wesley had wanted to stop by and 'check up on her', whatever that meant, and Spike's rowdy behavior was getting irritating enough that Fred was willing to tell Wesley how to get to the bar. Maybe she could ditch her date early by pretending Wesley needed her for urgent Wolfram & Hart business. And, maybe – just maybe – Wesley had something important to share with her. Fred felt a blush creep across her cheeks as she wondered what that might be.

Before she could return to the table, Fred jumped in fright again as a demon suddenly leaped in front of her, but she recognized him in an instant. She was quite happy to see him too - as far as Fred was concerned, he was proof enough that she had no bigoted feelings towards demons and their ilk. Not as a group, anyway. No sir.

"Lorne!'

Fred threw out her arms and pulled Lorne into a bear hug, almost knocking a cocktail out of his hand.

"Well hello there Miss Tiny Texas!"

Fred laughed as she released her grip on Lorne, allowing him to take a wheezing breath of air followed by a quick swig of his cocktail. "That's a new one," she told him. "Been waitin' to call me that?"

"Oh, it's just the cocktail."

"You and Spike both? Am I the only one who's _not_ drinking in here?"

"Honey, you're the only one who's not doing a lot of things in here. Why are you here, anyway? And did you just say you were here with Spike, or do I need to clean my ears?"

"It's a long story," said Fred. "But I should be asking you that. What are _you_ doing here?"

Lorne gave a nod towards a pair of women standing beside him, one of whom wore an ankle-length white fur-trimmed coat that accentuated her prodigious curves. The other wore a business suit and glasses which fit her slim physique. "This is Madame Bouffant, a valued Wolfram & Hart client and renowned opera singer, and her assistant."

"Lorne, you're such a chahmer!" cooed Madame Bouffant before grasping Fred's hand between her own slab-like paws in a crushing handshake. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady."

"The Madame wanted to show me around town," said Lorne. "I had other ideas about where to go, but apparently she gets tired of high society and likes to slum it up a little," he said. "Her words, not mine!"

Lorne and Madame Bouffant shared an uproarious laugh.

"Yeah, I wasn't really plannin' on coming here either," said Fred, "but Spike dragged me along. He's over there playing cards. Badly. I guess I'd better go see how he's doing. Wesley just called me up, too – I might leave with him pretty soon."

Lorne raised an eyebrow. "That's too bad," he said, pouting his lips at Fred. "We could have had quite the party with you and Wesley here. And right when we got here, too!"

"Come with me, Lorne," said Madame Bouffant. "I believe I spy a couple good friends o' mine over at that booth near the pool table. You'll find them delightful, ah'm sure!"

Fred waved goodbye and watched as Lorne followed Madame Bouffant and her silent assistant to a booth on the other side of the bar, which looked like it was occupied by several deformed bikers. She returned to the card table where Spike was playing with his increasingly angry-looking acquaintances, and where an argument was raging back and forth. From the sound of things, words might soon come to blows.

"-telling you, I saw it!" screeched one of the uglier looking demons at the table as Fred joined them in mid-argument.

Spike threw his hands up in the air. "Why in the world would I grab a kitten from the betting pool with all you ninnies starin' at me the whole time? You take me for a bloody fool, do you?"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" the demon insisted. "You took one!"

"I'm with him on this one," said the normal-looking man in the business suit.

Fred looked at the demon making the accusation. He had more than a few eyes, in fact, several of which were not located on the front of his head, so he certainly would have caught Spike red-handed if he had really tried to pull anything. But then, Fred found it hard to believe Spike could be so stupid. Maybe they were setting him up.

"You're just tryin' to kick me out of the game because you know I'm gonna hit my stride soon!"

The demons laughed uproariously at Spike's accusation. "Empty your pockets!" one shouted amidst the laughter.

"Look, really – why would I steal a kitten? I'd have to keep that thing on me all night while we were playing. You ever tried to keep a kitten in one of your pockets, Ragnor? Those things crawl out and end up devil knows where before you even know you lost it!"

"Excuses if I ever heard 'em!" cried a burly demon opposite Spike. "Trustin' undead makes ye daft in the head, is wat me mum always used t' say to me!"

"I resent that comment," spoke the well-dressed man, adjusting his tie in an indignant fashion.

"I resent your ugly face!"

"Let's all calm down now," said Spike.

Fred took a couple of steps back, as the table looked like it was on the verge of being flipped over, but Spike looked back at her with a smile and a wink, as if to let her know that he had the situation under control. She doubted that, but she felt like – as much as Spike was turning out to be a bad date – it might be poor form to ditch him just yet. Maybe she was just too nice for her own good, though.

Spike returned his attention to his fellow players. "Now look here," he told them, "I told you once and I'll tell you again, I'm a man of my word, and I can back up any losses. But I'll wager if we play one more round, I'll wipe the floor with all of you. I just got a feelin'," he said a little defensively at some of the smirks he got for his comment. "So give me one more hand and we'll see what happens, if you ain't scared."

"You already owe us two dozen kittens," said the well-dressed man. "Why should we continue playing when it's obvious you didn't bring any with you?"

Spike stared at the man for a moment before looking over the rest of the table in silence. After a moment, he leaned forward and spoke in a voice that could barely be heard above the rest of the bar. "Because I want to play another round," he said. "And I got something I can wager."

The demons gathered more closely around him, straining to hear his voice over the din of the bustling room. Fred watched them in confusion and heard Spike whisper something to them before they sat back in their chairs. She was about to ask Spike what he had wagered when she caught sight of several of the demons looking her over. The man in the business suit and glasses nodded stiffly, while the burly demon licked his lips. Fred frowned as she began to realize what had happened.

"Spike! I can't believe it! Did you just-"

"Hey, no worries, pet," said Spike as he leaned back and gave her a pat on the arm. "I'm gonna take these suckers for a ride, just you wait an' see."

Fred looked nervously over at the bar's doorway, hoping Wesley would arrive soon. Lorne and his eccentric-looking operatic client were still seated in the booth with the biker demons, although she wasn't sure how much Lorne could do to help if Spike got himself into trouble. Still, maybe Spike's bravado was not unfounded; he was pretty cocky about winning this next round. Maybe he was a better card player than he appeared.

Fred watched tensely as the cards were dealt out. Spike picked up his hand, his expression blank.

"Well?" asked one of the demons. "How's it look there, Spike?"

The table waited in silence, trying to gauge a reaction. Spike looked at his hand for a moment, and as the other players around the table watched him closely, he looked up at them with a smile and a wink.

Then, he looked up at his date.

"Fred?"

"Yes, Spike?"

"_RUN!_"

Spike leaped up, knocking his chair aside as the other demons gaped at him. He was about to flip over the table when Fred screeched and laid a hand on his arm, causing him to pause just for a moment as she grabbed the basket of kittens in the center of the table. She nodded at Spike, who then pushed the table over as the other players begin to rise up and shout. Cards and drinks scattered over the bar's floor as the other patrons turned in unison at the sudden cacaphony.

"Bye Lorne!" shouted Fred as she joined Spike in a dash for the door.

Spike hit the door with the full force of his body, knocking it right off its hinges and into the dark alleyway beyond as he tumbled outside. Fred was just behind him, going a little more slowly in an attempt to balance the basket she was holding without sending any kittens sailing out into the air. She could hear several of Spike's fellow demonic card players hot on her heels, so close that she thought she could feel their hot breath on her neck. Spike wouldn't leave her behind to be torn apart in some trashy bar after asking her out on Valentine's Day – there was no way that could happen! No matter what Angel said, he couldn't be _that_ bad.

Could he?

Fred noticed that Spike had stopped in the middle of the alley and turned around. She breathed a sigh of relief; apparently he was just making sure he had some open ground to fight his opponents. Just as Fred stepped to the side, however, a shape stumbled out of the darkness and smacked into Spike, knocking both of them to the ground in a heap. Fred leaped aside, still trying to protect the kittens. Several demons stumbled out of the bar's open back door and poured into the alley, but stopped to see what was going on.

Fred peered more closely at the two figures as Spike got up and dusted himself off. The man who had knocked him over also got up, much more unsteadily, and burped before looking at Fred and flashing her a beaming smile.

"Wesley?"

"Fred! Jus' the lady I came to see!"

"Who's this joker?" barked one of the demons waiting to attack Spike.

"Wes - Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," slurred Wesley. "Wolfram 'n' Hart, 'vestigations. At your service."

He held out a shaky hand for the demon to shake. Instead, the demon knocked it aside with a sneer of disdain. Fred cautiously placed the basket of kitchens out of the way, on a nearby dumpster's closed lid, sensing that a fight was still incoming.

"Watch out there," warned the burly demon to his friend as Wesley looked at his smacked hand with surprise. "Best not to be messin' with the evil lawyers, I always say."

"I'll mess with anybody I wanna mess with," sneered the demon.

"What's going on out here?"

The demons crowding around the door stepped out farther into the alley as three more figures emerged from the bar: Lorne, his opera singer client, and her assistant. Lorne looked over the increasingly crowded alleyway and returned Fred's meek wave with a nod and a wink. "Having a little smoking break, are we?" he said.

"None o' your business!" snapped the burly demon.

"Enough of this bloody talk," said Spike.

The others looked at him for a moment before he gave the burly demon a sock to the jaw, knocking him clean off his feet. Within seconds the alleyway erupted into chaos. Fists began to fly, bodies began to fall, and screams rent the still night air as – despite the presence of a Wolfram & Hart lawyer – the demons who had been jilted by Spike decided it was time to get their dues. Fred tried to back away from the fight, still worried about the kittens being caught by a stray blow or flying body.

She noticed Wesley extend a stake from some kind of contraption strapped to his arm, which normally would have been a bit on the sexy side, but Wesley definitely seemed like he had had one too many drinks. _Oh Wesley_, she thought to herself. _Shouldn't you be doing that _after_ you get to the bar?_ She couldn't help but smile as Wesley charged a demon with a yell, knocking it over mainly due to the element of surprise as he wrestled with it on the ground.

Fred was about to join the fight and help Wesley out, but before she could make another move, the well-dressed demon stepped away from the brawl and leered at her, removing his glasses and placing them in his pocket as his forehead transformed into a twisting mass of flesh. Sharp fangs extended from his cocky smile.

"I believe Spike wagered you as his bet on that last round," the vampire told her. "I'd like to collect my share. Maybe just a few pints, if you don't mind."

Fred did mind. And unfortunately for her snappy-looking vampire opponent, she had a stake concealed in her boot which would make it clear just how much she minded. It was always a good idea to go out with a stake when you lived in LA and got involved in Fred's line of work.

"Come and get it," she said.

The vampire gave a short, vicious laugh before leaping at Fred, who let herself drop to her knees as she reached for the stake protruding just over the top of her left boot. The vampire did not expect the strange ducking move, and although he still hit her forcefully, the two of them fell backwards as the vampire lost his balance. It was enough for Fred; the two of them rolled back across the alley for a couple of yards, and Fred was on top of the vampire before he knew what was going on. The cruel grin was gone, replaced by a look of shock and surprise. Fred's stake plunged deep into his heart. The surprised look vaporized as the vampire burst into a cloud of dust, settling on the asphalt.

Fred stood up from the pavement and gave the kittens a quick glance before looking back at the fight. Spike was holding his own, and Wesley was doing amazingly well for someone who could barely aim a stake, but there were still about five demons remaining, as well as a number of bar patrons who had gathered just inside the door to peer out at the alleyway and see what was going on.

Lorne was standing to the side with Madame Bouffant's assistant as the two of them watched the fight distastefully. Madame Bouffant herself, strangely, seemed to be standing next to the door, making the occasional comment to some of the demons inside as she watched the fight in amusement. A moment passed, and the rotund opera singer looked like she was beginning to get bored of the fight. She snapped her fingers.

"That's quite enough now, boys."

The fight raged on despite her comment. Spike was struggling wildly to free himself from the grip of two demons who were holding him while a third punched him in the chest, and Wesley was still wrestling with a demon on the ground of the alleyway. Fred held back from the fight, for some reason. Something about Madame Bouffant's increasingly annoyed expression unsettled her. The woman snapped her fingers, louder.

"Ah do believe I asked everybody to be so kind as to stop fightin' each other!"

Spike threw back one of the demons holding him aside and landed a kick directly into the solar plexus of the one who was hitting him. He gave out a cackle of triumph right before the third one knocked him over. Wesley managed to jab his stake at the demon with whom he was wrestling on the ground, giving it a glancing blow to the arm, but that only made the demon angrier. The demon knocked Wesley back and got up with a roar of anger, about to pounce. Fred gasped in shock – but not at the demon.

Several of the other fighters had noticed something strange going on as well, and the fight stalled as they stared at Madame Bouffant. Spike himself took a couple of steps back with Lorne and the assistant. Wesley lay on the ground as he stared at her.

Her face seemed to be bloating to an unusual size, and her body was expanding, despite the fact that she was already a fairly hefty woman. Fred involuntarily drew closer to the kittens as Madame Bouffant's mouth widened. Normal teeth expanded in size, turning into ragged fangs, and eyes sank back into distended skin as her features became unrecognizable.

As her body reformed itself in a grotesque metamorphosis, growing wider, taller, more mottled, the white coat fell away from her body. No longer recognizably human, she towered over the demon who had been about to jump on Wesley. The demon stared up at her, transfixed.

"What the hell are-"

His sentence was cut off as Madame Bouffant's hideous form sank down on him. A gigantic mouth, enlarged to many times its previous size, engulfed his head. Fred heard a brief scream as the teeth sank in, and Madame Bouffant – or what had been Madame Bouffant – made a strange sucking sound as she chomped several times, bringing the demon's entire body into herself. His feet disappeared past rows of gleaming teeth.

She had eaten him whole.

A few moments later, Madame Bouffant's features reorganized themselves and shrank back to their normal size. Her teeth lost their knife-like appearance. Eyes reappeared in their sockets. The two arms, which had briefly looked like fleshy tree branches, shrunk to a normal size as they quickly picked the white coat back up and wrapped it around a normal human body. Madame Bouffant's monstrous transformation had reminded Fred of a shark, somehow – a bizarre, otherworldly shark. But now, within seconds, she was back to normal. A flamboyant southern belle of an opera singer, with a body looking noticeably fatter than it had moments earlier.

"Oh my," she said as she held a few fingers demurely to her mouth. "I'm anticipatin' a little indigestion tonight!"

Wesley, Spike, and the demons they had been fighting exchanged glances for a moment as the alley was plunged into an awkward silence. The fight had stopped almost as soon as her transformation began. After a moment, Spike's disgruntled card playing buddies seemed to reach an agreement among themselves.

They ran.

"That's right!" shouted Spike as they scattered in all directions. "You'd better run!"

The demons who had been watching the fight through the bar door had retreated inside after seeing what had just transpired, knowing a dangerous opponent when they saw one. Madame Bouffant beckoned her assistant to her, as well as Lorne, who did not seem very surprised by the transformation. Fred wondered if he was well aware of some of Madame Bouffant's demonic abilities.

"It's been a delight," said Madame Bouffant, "but I believe I shall retire to mah home for the evening. Lorne, care to accompany a woman to her limousine?"

Lorne gave a polite nod. "Absolutely. Hey, I'll see you guys at Wolfram & Hart tomorrow, okay? You're all fine, right?"

Fred nodded quietly, although she was pretty sure she'd be having a few bad dreams about Madame Bouffant's transformation later that night. Wesley had apparently wandered off in a drunken haze behind a couple of garbage cans, and as Fred listened to the faint sound of vomiting, she got the feeling that seeing Madame Bouffant's evening snack had bothered his stomach more than any of the actual fighting going on.

"Hey, thanks for the save," Spike told the singer. "That's a real wicked trick ya got there."

Madame Bouffant laughed. "No thanks necessary, young man. Just havin' a little fun out on the town. Nice meetin' you chahming folks Sylvia, make sure they get complimentary tickets to my next show, will you?"

Her assistant nodded silently.

Fred stood awkwardly in the alley with Spike as Lorne, Madame Bouffant, and her assistant walked away towards the city street at the end of the alley. She watched as they turned a corner, still a little dazed at the last few minutes, before she turned back to Spike. He wore a sheepish expression on his face. Fred considered smacking him for a moment. As far as Valentine's Day dates went, this was definitely one of the worst she had experienced. The second worst, to be exact. But she found herself surprisingly indifferent. She should have known, after all.

"Look, I'm sorry about almost getting' ya killed and all that," said Spike haltingly as he realized Fred was not going to say anything. "It's just I get real competitive when I'm playin' with those tossers in there, and tonight I thought I'd impress you if I just-"

"Save it, Spike."

Spike fell silent. He looked like he was expecting a slap, but once he realized he wasn't going to get one, he gave Fred a faint smirk, half apologetic and half cocky. Fred glared at him for a moment, but she couldn't help but return the smirk after a moment. She could see why he infuriated Angel so much.

"I need to take Wesley home," said Fred. "and I think our date is over. Goodbye, Spike."

"Er, gotcha."

Spike took the hint and walked off, melting into the darkness. The basket of kittens was still placed on top of the closed dumpster, and Wesley was still standing a few yards away by the trash cans and stooping as if unsure whether or not he was going to keep throwing up. Fred began to regret sending Spike off instead of making him help her carry the basket of kittens. She sighed as she grabbed the basket and balanced it in the crook of her arm while walking over to Wesley and helping him stand up with the other, wrinkling her nose in the process. The two of them made their way out of the alley. They reached the street and took the sidewalk as Fred helped Wesley take unsteady steps forward.

"Why exactly did you drunk call me and come see me tonight?" asked Fred.

"Wanted t' make sure you were safe," said Wesley. "Thought – thought maybe Spike, up to no good."

Fred smiled and gave him a pat on the back.

"You know I can take care of myself."

Wesley still seemed to be feeling a little too under the weather to say anything coherent in response. She wanted to ask him more – maybe figure out if there was more motivating Wesley's Valentine's visit beyond a simple concern for her safety, not that that wasn't endearing per se. Unfortunately, Wesley was not in a particularly lucid mood, with the alcohol and a few hard punches he had taken during the fight.

"Oh look, kittens!" he exclaimed.

Fred nodded patiently as she led him onward, forced to walk slowly so that she didn't drop the basket full of kittens. She could already tell that her arms were going to be aching by the end of the night. It took a few moments, but she managed to wring an apartment address out of Wesley as she helped him along, ignoring the occasional pedestrian that shot amused glances at the two of them. She would need to drop Wesley off before she could go home herself; fortunately, he did not live far away.

Fred sighed as the two of them made their way slowly down the sidewalk. The moon shone down, melting into the glow of streetlights as they made their way over the cracked cement, leaving the dingy district where Spike had taken her, towards Wesley's more upscale neighborhood. She would have to help him inside his apartment and stay with him for a few hours to make sure he was alright, but she got the feeling that Wesley would be dropping into bed and falling asleep as soon as they got there.

After that nerve-wracking date with Spike, Fred found herself looking forward to doing exactly the same thing.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - Hopefully nobody reading this lives in L.A. and has a beef with my totally made up street names. But I figure if I can make up a bar frequented by creatures of the night, I can make up a couple of street names too! Let me know what you thought, one chapter to go. :)_


	4. The Morning After

**The Morning After**

XX

Morning sunlight poured through the window, cut by blinds into parallel beams which crisscrossed over Angel's bed. A groan broke the still air as Angel lay sprawled over the bedsheets. Several moments passed before he began to twitch. He woke up gradually, feeling the sunlight heating up the black shirt and leather jacket he still wore from the previous night. Angel blinked slowly as he became fully awake. His head was pounding, and he had vague recollections of a highly embarrassing Valentine's Night. What was more, he felt a strange weight against his stomach. He raised his head enough to look down towards his body and see what was pressing down on him.

"Oh, hello Gunn."

He stared at his friend for a moment, who was laying asleep on the bed perpendicular to Angel with his head nestled across Angel's stomach. A moment passed. Then Angel realized Gunn was sleeping on top of him.

"Gunn, what the hell!"

Angel leaped up with a start and scrambled off the bed to stand by the window, his sudden movement rolling a sleeping Gunn onto the floor. Gunn sputtered awake in an instant and stood up in confusion from where he had hit the floor. He stared at Angel, who was about to protest again when he turned around the looked at the window.

The sunlight! Not the sunlight!

"_Nooo!_"

Angel threw up his arms and screamed before Gunn shouted him down.

"Angel, Angel! Necrotempered glass, dude! Chill!"

Angel's scream trailed off as he stood stock still for a moment, waiting to burst into flame, until finally Gunn's comment registered. He lowered his arms and squinted his eyes, staring out at the morning-framed Los Angeles skyline beyond his window.

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that."

Gunn looked around Angel's apartment before holding his head and grimacing. "Oh man," he said, "I'm pretty sure I can't remember more than, like, the first two hours of last night. What happened?"

"I think we fell asleep up here."

"Where's Wes?"

Angel plumbed his shaky memory. "I think he might have left to see Fred or something."

"Was I sleepin' with my head on your stomach?"

"Yes. Yes you were. Ugh, and you got drool on my shirt!"

Angel wiped the drool he had accidentally touched on the leg of his pants. He and Gunn stood awkwardly on either side of the bed for a moment, not sure what to do next, until Angel looked at his bedside alarm clock and let out another groan.

"What?" asked Gunn.

"We're late to work. Very late."

"Oh, man!"

The two of them rushed to the elevator and took it down to his office, forgetting to change into a new set of clothes – not that Gunn had a choice unless he wanted to borrow something in Angel's wardrobe, which gave him a choice between black and black.

The elevator doors opened into Angel's office as he stepped out, rubbing his temples and trying to think about what was on his agenda. Working at Wolfram & Hart was a stressful experience, with a new problem cropping up on a daily basis, which was saying a lot – running Angel Investigations at the Hyperion had been a handful, and that was nothing compared to being the CEO of an evil law firm. Unfortunately, his searing hangover was making it difficult for him to think about what he had to do today. What day was it, anyway?

"Hey Angel?"

"What's up, Gunn."

Angel dropped the papers he had picked up at his desk and walked to the office door, which Gunn was holding open. He looked into the lobby. It was empty.

"What the – am I the only one who cares about getting things done around here? Come on, people!"

"I think it's Sunday, Angel."

"Oh. Right."

Angel looked at the lobby for another few moments, wondering what he would do without any work.

"Why're we even closed on Sundays?" asked Gunn. "Does anybody here even go to church? I mean, do vampires and demons really need the day off?"

"Some of them do. You'd be surprised how many vampires go to church, and thats not even counting evil churches," said Angel.

"No kidding?"

"Yeah, it's for appearance's sake, that kind of thing. Easy source of victims too. Heck, some of them just have a masochistic streak. I knew this one vampire when I was in Europe who liked to sneak in and rub himself on the cross just to get a-"

Gunn coughed insistently. "Er, too much information, Angel."

"Sorry."

"So here's a question – did Wesley say something last night about Spike going out on a date with Fred?"

Angel frowned at Gunn's question. Wesley had definitely said something along those lines.

"I wasn't sure what he meant, but he did say something about them. But that's ridiculous. Spike knows that I'd put a stake through his heart if he touched Fred, and Fred has better taste than that. Besides, it was Valentine's Day – I get the feeling Wesley might have seen them together and read into things a bit too much, maybe gotten a bit jealous."

"You mean he's-"

Angel nodded.

"Interesting," said Gunn.

"You haven't sensed something between those two?"

"Guess not. I s'pose I haven't been keeping up with the office romances nowadays."

The two of them still stood in front of the open office door, staring blankly at the empty lobby as they wrestled with the lingering nauseated feeling that still clung to them as a result of last night. Angel returned to his desk for a moment and sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile, glad to hear that he had picked up some kind of mutual interest between Fred and Wesley that Gunn hadn't noticed. _I must be good at reading signals_, he told himself. _ That day Nina came over to talk about werewolf coping strategies, Fred was so friendly around Wesley – how could anyone _not_ pick up on that?_

Gunn sat down in a chair opposite Angel's desk. Angel sat silently with his friend as he tried to piece together the bits and pieces of the previous night. He could tell Gunn was doing the same thing, and probably waiting for his own hangover to wear off too. Last night had been interesting, there was no denying it. It wasn't often that Angel let his guard down that much, but he always got a bit sentimental on Valentine's Day. And he had to admit that it had been fun to spend some time with Wesley and Gunn, talking about life and love, watching some repeats of _Passions_ –

Oh, no. They knew about _Passions_.

"Hey Gunn?" asked Angel.

"Yeah?"

"I have an idea."

Gunn leaned forward expectantly in his chair.

"Let's never speak about last night, okay?"

Gunn thought about Angel's proposition. Apparently he was not the only one who had been piecing together the pieces of last night's Valentine's escapades. He vaguely recollected sharing a drunken crying jag with Angel after something that had happened on _Passions_. Something about Sheridan getting assassinated, maybe, and knowing what it would do to poor Luis. He began to feel a hot flush of embarrassment pass over his cheeks. Maybe Angel had a point about keeping last night just between them.

"You got yourself a deal."

After Angel made sure he had no pressing business to take care of since he was already at work, he and Gunn parted ways. An entire Sunday off; Angel wasn't sure what to do with himself. He considered just going back up to his apartment but decided it would be nice to drive around Los Angeles a little bit in one of the cars downstairs with the necrotempered windshields. One of the nice perks of working at an evil law firm, he surprised.

Gunn had already left by the time Angel went into the lobby and took the elevator down to the parking garage. The door opened, and he stepped out onto concrete and took a look at his beautiful vehicles. So many choices. He hadn't even tried half of them yet. There was one in particular he had in mind - the yellow number, which seemed like a bad color for a car, but it had been growing on him. But as Angel looked for it, he noticed an empty space where it should have been.

His face twisted with anger as he realized almost immediately why one of his cars would be missing. There was only one possible explanation for it.

"Spike!"

XX

Fred hummed an aimless tune as she watered one of her potted ferns. It was nice to have a day off from work where she could putter around the house a little – especially after the events of the night before. Although she was feeling less annoyed after a night of rest, she had been more than a little irritated with Spike's behavior last night, as it was usually a little irksome when someone almost got you killed on a first date.

If it even _was_ a first date. Fred had gotten the feeling that Spike had a bit of a liking towards her ever since he arrived at Wolfram & Hart, but maybe he just wanted to have some Valentine's fun. It was hard to tell just how much Spike liked her, though. Even if he really _did_ like her, she knew that she did not return the feeling. Despite the rugged good looks and devil-may-care attitude, last night had proved that vampires were definitely not her type. Even with a soul. Fred wondered how Buffy Summers could have been interested in not one but two vampires. It must be some kind of side effect of being the slayer, she thought. Drawn to that which you're supposed to hate.

Fred had just finished watering her ferns and thinking about her strange Valentine's Day when the doorbell rang. She put away the water sprayer and walked up to the door. For just a moment, she hoped that it might be Wesley, even though she doubted he would be up and about even earlier than she had woken up. She opened the door.

It was not Wesley.

"Hello, Spike."

The platinum-topped vampire stood awkwardly in the hallway outside the doorway. For a moment Fred thought he was expecting to be punched or slapped, but she realized that he was waiting for an invitation.

"Come in. How did you find my apartment anyway?"

"Looked it up in the yellow pages. 511 Winwood Circle."

"How did you even get here? It's already daytime outside."

"Oh, I took one of Angel's little rides with the necrotempered windshields from the basement of Wolfram & Hart earlier this morning. Thought I'd go for a joyride around town, and I found a shady place behind your building to park and nip inside real quick. Hope you don't mind me stopping by."

"Depends on if you came here to ask for a kitten loan."

Spike noticed the basket of kittens placed at the foot of her bed and snorted in amusement.

"I s'pose I should probably give up the kitten gambling now that I have a soul. Not exactly a noble pursuit, eh?"

"No, it's not. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Hey now, I usually win, and I let the kittens go most of the time! I just like the game!"

Fred couldn't tell whether Spike was telling the truth or just backtracking in order to save face, but she didn't feel like getting into an argument about the ethics of using cute baby animals as game winnings, and she was getting a little impatient as to why Spike had stopped by at all. She knew that if he was planning on asking her out on any more dates, she would have to reject him – she had only gone on the first one due to circumstance, and it going out with Spike had made Fred more aware of her feelings for Wesley than ever before.

"Look, Fred, I just came by to tell you I don't think things would work out between us."

Fred snorted. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

"You see," said Spike as he flopped down on her bed and ignored her derisive look, "I've always had a bit of a thing for the cute innocent types, you know? But it's not really a good match. I'm just too much of a bad boy, is the problem."

"Oh, totally."

Fred's response was sarcastic, but she had to admit Spike could pull off the bad boy aesthetic well. At least when he wasn't trying too hard, like he was now.

"I think I'd end up bein' a bad influence on you, and when it comes right down to it, I still need some time to move on from Buffy and enjoy the single life. Sow my wild oats, you know? But I'm glad we went out last night. Quite a riot."

"It was definitely exciting as far as Valentine's Days go," said Fred. She wasn't lying, although she also hadn't decided what exactly she meant by 'exciting.' Still, she had to admit that she'd probably be remembering last night for a while. "Just do me a favor and don't take me to any of your favorite bars in the future."

"Gotcha."

Spike flashed her a roguish smile as he enjoyed a momentary rest on the bed before jumping up and making his way to the refrigerator. He combed through its contents for a moment before closing the door with a grunt. "No blood around?" he asked.

"Um, why would I have blood in my fridge?"

"Oh, right."

Fred leaned against a wall corner, waiting for Spike to excuse himself since she needed to make a call. Fortunately, he did not seem interested in hanging around for too long. After deciding he was uninterested in taking any of the snacks Fred had stashed around the apartment, he opened the door and gave her a nod before leaving.

"I'm off to keep drivin' around town before somebody tows my car or the sun gets too high in that alley out back. You know, I almost hope I have a parking ticket, seeing as Angel would have to pay it."

"You're so considerate. Have fun with that."

"Oh, and, uh – well, sorry for almost gettin' you killed last night."

Fred smiled. She had not expected an apology, but it was appreciated all the same.

"Thanks, Spike."

Fred sat down on her bed after Spike gave her a last nod and closed the door. He was definitely a bit of enigma. Maybe he had just asked her out to have a little fun on Valentine's Day, or maybe he was genuinely interested in her. Maybe he had realized over the course of the night that the two of them were not a good match. He could have stopped by to save face and come off like he was indifferent to the whole thing. Hiding some kind of deeper feelings. It was hard to tell when Spike seemed to maintain a flippant attitude towards everyone and everything. Whatever had been his motivation behind asking her out on a date was irrelevant now, anyway.

Fred got up from her bed for a moment and picked up one of the kittens in the basket. She returned to the bed with the kitten in her lap, playing with it and stroking its soft fur as she picked her cell phone off the end table and opened it up with her other hand. Although she had stayed with Wesley for a little while in his apartment while he was conked out last night, she wanted to make sure he was feeling alright.

XX

Wesley was definitely not feeling alright. The splitting headache was bad enough on its own, but the blaring ring of the phone beside his bed made it even worse. He shifted and groaned as the ring drove him into wakefulness. How did he get in his bed, anyway? And under covers, too. Wesley raised up his arm and looked at the wristwatch that had not been taken off, noting it was about noon. As he wracked his brain for some general ideas of what had happened the night before, he remembered Fred. Fred, and the sidewalk. Walking home, maybe?

"Alright alright," he grumbled as he picked up the phone. "This is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, who's trying to kill me?"

"Um, it's Fred. Are you okay?"

Wesley's tone brightened noticeably at the sound of Fred's voice. "Oh, hello! No, I'm just fine. Well, I have a headache that feels like it's about to burst out of my skull, and I am beginning to get a vague impression that I made a fool of myself last night, but other than that, I'm wonderful. Thank you for asking."

A light laugh came from the other end of the line. "That's good to hear."

"Did you take me home?"

"Yep!"

"I hope I wasn't a bother last night. I remember leaving Gunn and Angel at Wolfram & Hart-"

"Wait a minute, what? You guys were still at work last night?"

"Well, yes. We were all in Angel's apartment having a few drinks, as a matter of fact."

"Oh my lord," said Fred, her southern accent creeping through a little more strongly than usual. "Did _everybody_ get drunk last night except me?"

Wesley's only response was a sheepish silence. Judging by another laugh and a good-natured sigh that came from the other end of the line, he got the feeling that Fred had been the only sensible one last night. Well, except for going out on a date with blondie bear, as Harmony liked to call him.

"I guess you guys should have had me around to babysit you, huh?"

"Perhaps," laughed Wesley. "Although I don't know how Angel and Gunn are doing. They were watching some ridiculous soap opera last night, but I left a bit early." Wesley thought about the two of them, but then his thoughts shifted to his visit to the demon dive the other night. "So, if you don't mind me asking, were you _really_ out on a date with Spike?"

"Oh no," laughed Fred. "Well, I don't know exactly. I just felt like going out, and Spike was the one who asked me. But we're not an item or anything, if that's what you're askin' about. He's not my type."

Wesley could not resist a wide smile. He was glad Fred couldn't see him over the phone.

"Not one for the vampires?"

"I guess not. I think I'm more into the cultured, intelligent but ruggedly handsome types. Maybe with a bit of a knack for the magical arts."

"Sounds like you might be interested in some of the people I knew when I was on the Watcher's Council."

The other end of the phone was silent for a moment, and Wesley wondered if Fred had been cut off before she finally replied with a simple 'yeah.' He wondered if she wanted him to set him up on some kind of blind date with one of his old associates - it would be a tall order, since he tended to despise his old associates, but fortunately she did not ask.

"I left you something," she said instead. "Before I left your apartment last night, I mean."

"Oh yes? What is that?"

"It's taped to your refrigerator door. Since you're feeling better, I'll let you go take a look whenever you feel like it. I gotta go - see you at work tomorrow, Wesley."

"Goodbye, Fred."

The phone went silent, and Wesley knew he would have to wait until tomorrow to hear Fred's voice again. He felt a little disappointed at the thought, but it was not too much to ask.

The apartment was dark, as the blinds on the window were drawn, and Wesley spent a few moments laying still under the covers in the gloom, still trying to wait for his hangover to ease off a little. He could not wait long, however. He threw the sheets off and got up from his bed, leaving the bedroom on his way to the small kitchenette. Sure enough, a note was taped to his refrigerator, folded in half. He removed it carefully and opened it up; the note was made from white printer paper cut into the shape of a heart.

_Sorry this isn't red,_ the note read. _You don't seem to have any art supplies in your apartment, Wesley. I couldn't even draw red hearts on the inside! Anyway, I stole your milk from the fridge for the kittens._

Wesley vaguely remembered the basket of kittens that Fred had been carrying along last night. He wondered why in the world she had those; he would have to ask her tomorrow, but the memory amused him. He continued to read.

_I hope you're feeling better. Have a happy Valentine's Day! Love, Fred._

Wesley smiled and stood in the kitchenette for a few moments, rereading the note one more time before slowly folding it up. He felt hungry enough to grab something out of the refrigerator for breakfast – apparently cereal and milk were not an option, judging by Fred's note – but first, he needed to go back to his room.

Wesley opened an empty dresser drawer, placing the note carefully towards the back. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten anything for Valentine's Day. Fred's note was about as simple as Valentine's Day cards could get, and he knew she didn't share the feelings that he felt for her, but it didn't matter. He stood in his room for a moment, marveling at the fact that he barely even noticed his headache anymore. He felt like a new man. It was amazing how the smallest gesture could make all the difference in the world.

XX

* * *

_**Notes** - That's it, hope you guys enjoyed it! I would have posted the last chapter yesterday but I had some kind of major stomach bug laying me out all day. I guess I probably felt like Wesley, Gunn, or Angel, take your pick. Let me know what you thought of the story. :) I have another story for Angel called "Helping Hand" that you can check out if you haven't yet.  
_

_And yeah, that was an actual event from _Passions_ that I referenced. I had to look up the show since I haven't seen it and try to find some scene that might plausibly make a drunk Gunn and Angel cry, hehe. That show actually sounds pretty crazy for a soap opera - I could see why Spike might be into it. _

_Hopefully Wesley isn't too oblivious to Fred's feelings at the end, but I found it amusing and couldn't resist, and he is pretty oblivious in Smile Time after all. I'm not a big "shipping" type especially in the Buffyverse for some reason - I tend to like most relationships on the show about equally, and the group dynamics and friendships are what attract me most - but I do have a soft spot for Wesley and Fred for some reason. Maybe just because Joss gave us, what, a quarter of an episode with them before taking it away? Hehe._

_My next story will be for _The Office_, but I'll probably write more Buffyverse stories at some point in the future, so put me on author alerts if you want.  
_


End file.
